


Why Simmons shouldn't party... alone. According to Grif.

by MargoTheGreat



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - College/University, Donut is only briefly mentioned, Grif is protective of Simmons, they're so cute, what dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:31:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4724318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MargoTheGreat/pseuds/MargoTheGreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt "Stay there, I'm coming to get you." Grif worries about Simmons a lot, for a good reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Simmons shouldn't party... alone. According to Grif.

**Author's Note:**

> Drinks get drugged without the drinker knowing, mention of vomiting. Edit: I fixed the formatting so that it's easier to follow. Sorry about that!

Grif and Simmons had been buddies in highschool so obviously they roomed in a dorm together in college. Well, if buddies was another word for constantly together but always arguing about something trivial, and rooming together was more like Simmons always telling Grif to “clean up your fucking mess, Grif!” when they both knew that Simmons would end up doing it instead. But Simmons was never a very social guy, and Grif and he were -best friends- familiar enough with each other. They just didn’t like the effort of socializing in Grif’s case, and other people just made Simmons nervous. Which was why Grif was so surprised when Simmons told him he was going out that he was going out that night.

Grif had been lounging on the couch eating a sandwich, the menu of Mario Kart was flashing on the screen. That damn nerd was taking forever in the bathroom, Grif wanted to get the tournament started already. It was the one guaranteed time every week that Grif could get Simmons to stop studying and take a fucking break.

“Simmons, hurry the fuck up!”

He heard footsteps into the room but when he looked at Simmons he just stared.

“What are you wearing?”

Simmons looked exasperated, “Grif I already told you, some guys in one of my classes invited me to go to a party with them tonight. And I thought it looked okay. Does it not look okay? Not that I’d listen to your fashion advice because you’re a fatass who sits on our sofa all day. Maybe I should ask Donut though…” with that Simmons started visibly searching for his phone, patting down his pockets.

“Simmons, you look fine. I mean, you look like a nerd, but that’s just a constant given. But if you’re going out, for God’s sake dude, roll up your sleeves.”

Grif could tell that Simmons was practically humming with nervous energy, so he figured he’d give him something to focus on. He got up (of course with a groan so he didn’t ruin his reputation as lazy) and walked over to Simmons. He wore gray pants that Grif was happy to see weren’t business pants material (damn nerd always took himself too seriously), nicely balanced with dress shoes and a maroon button up made of material that looked to change colors when the light hit it just right. Glasses set perfectly on the bridge of his freckled nose, but his hair looked like Simmons had tried brushing and taming the curls with gel and water. Grif rolled up Simmons’ sleeves for him and paused,

“Dude a fucking belt? Are you kidding me?”

“Not everybody is as fat as you Grif, I need this belt to keep my pants up.”

“No you don’t.”

He thought Simmons would keep protesting but he didn’t, once again showing he had to be pretty damn nervous if he was listening to Grif.

“And Jesus, Simmons your hair is making you look even more like a nerd than usual.”

Grif reached up and ran his hands through Simmons’ curls, trying not to look at his blushing face. Finally it was messy enough for Grif so he dropped his hands back to his sides.

“I can’t believe you’re skipping out on tournament night to go to a party, who are these guys again?”

Simmons looked at the ground, “Just some dumb frat guys in my math class. Besides, we never even finish those fucking tournaments, all we do is argue over them. And everybody I know seems to think making friends is a good idea.” Grif knew that everyone meant Simmons’ parents.

Simmons gave a shrug, “If nothing else maybe I’ll be able to share notes with them.”

Grif rolled his eyes but smirked a little, “Nerd. I know you’re worrying about it. Just don’t be a kissass and you’ll be fine. Nobody likes a kissass, Simmons.”

“Shut the fuck up, Grif. I’m not an idiot. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself at a party.”

Grif watched as Simmons grabbed his key to their room and his wallet before checking the mirror one last time.

“Simmons are you gonna need me to pick you up?”

Simmons looked up a bit distractedly, “No, I’ll just catch a bus there and back. You know I don’t do social gatherings without a crutch, and tonight that crutch is alcohol.”

“Ok, but don’t get too wasted. I wanna be able to hear all about the girls you tried to talk to when you get home.”

Grif smirked as Simmons just said, “Ha. Ha. Asshole. See you later.” and the door was shut behind him.

Grif tried not to feel jealous but he felt the pang anyway at the thought that he’d be in an empty dorm by himself all night. What did he do when Simmons wasn’t here or before they knew each other? Grif just sat down on the sofa to finish his sandwich, placed his phone on the coffee table (not in case Simmons needed him after all, just because… well there were plenty of reasons) and stared at the screen. He played a couple races by himself but it got boring pretty fast. He texted his sister once or twice, but she was busy. He found himself making rounds of the apartment, with some snack cakes in his hands. When did he even pick those up? He watched some tv, the news was on and he was too lazy to change it. It was just a bunch of bullshit about some new drug entering the illegal market. Later there were two more snack cake wrappers on the coffee table, Grif always had been a stress eater. It was how he kept up his calm demeanor, but why was he so worried? Something didn’t feel right. Before he could place his finger on it, he fell asleep on the couch, the news station flickering on the screen becoming the only light source in the room until about 2 am when Grif’s phone lit up and started ringing on the coffee table. Grif woke to it with a start, looked and the caller ID and answered,

“Simmons? What’s going on?”

Simmons’ voice came from the other end of the phone but it sounded way off. The noises of a club scene started to fade as Simmons slurred, “Where the fuck did I park my car?”

“How the fuck should I know? Wait, you didn’t take your car. You rode the bus.”

“…But I hate the bus.” Simmons sounded like a little kid. And extremely messed up.

“Simmons do you have your bus ticket?” Silence. “Do you have money for the bus?” A growing sense of uneasiness blossomed in Grif’s chest, “Simmons, are you okay?”

The sound of crying started coming from Simmons, “They were really mean to me like when… when these people were above me and I was on the ground in third grade. I’m not having very much fun. Grif, I wanna go home. But I don’t have the magic paper. I can’t go on the big car without it. But they took it… and gave me some nasty medicine instead but I didn’t know. So now my tummy hurts and I was mad first but now I can’t remember why.”

When Grif had heard Simmons crying he had staggered up, pulling on his pants. He was already grabbing his keys, a jacket, water bottle, and a bag for him by the time Simmons was saying he wanted to go home. His chest tightened when Simmons mentioned medicine.

“Jesus Christ Simmons, how much did you have to drink?” His keys were in his hand, and he was running (yes, running) to his car as Simmons replied,

“A lot… Probably like… 6? Maybe 10?” Shit, he was messed up really bad if he forgot to add measurements like the math major he was.

“Stay there buddy, I’m coming to get you okay? Where are you?”

Grif was remembering now the news story he had been watching that night. A new drug was being used to kidnap people from parties, and it was even more potent when mixed with alcohol.

“Uh… I’m at that place? The one where we always go to and then… and then we just always go there and I say shut up.”

That had to be either the library downtown or MacDonald’s, shit. Don’t let it be MacDonald’s, there were too many of them near clubbing areas. Grif tried to stay calm for Simmons’ sake.

“Don’t worry Simmons I’m coming.”

“Well come now, because I can’t get in and I’m scared ‘cuzzzzzz it’s dark in there and out here too.”

Grif thanked every deity in existence for the hint, MacDonald’s would still be open. He started driving downtown to the library as fast as he could while still being safe.

“Okay Simmons, is there somewhere you can sit? I’m on my way.” No answer. “Simmons?”

“Uhhh…….” Holy fuck this was bad.

“Simmons!”

“Yeah?”

“Find the bench okay? The one where I always smoke and eat ice cream.”

“Okay. No fair, I want some ice cream… There’s three benches what do I do? Everything is spinning and changing colors.”

“Just, uh. Just sit down on all three?” That should work right?

“Oh, ok. But I still want ice cream.”

Grif couldn’t help but be a bit amused at that, until he remembered that Simmons only ate ice cream when Grif forced him to because Simmons was either sad and crying or really sick.

“Okay buddy, how about we get you some ice cream later, but you gotta drink the water I’m bringing you first.”

“I like water. It… it keeps my body alive.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Grif, I don’t feel so good… and also I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m five minutes away. Don’t go to sleep. Keep talking and wave or say hi when you see me okay?”

Grif was driving slowly now, determined not to miss Simmons in case he sat on the ground.

“Okay, is this like hide and seek?”

“No, it’s a different game.”

“Good. I hate hide and seek. Nobody ever let me play but that’s okay ‘cuz I hate it. OH! I see you. I win, I’m the best.”

Grif looked around. Sure enough, a little ways forward Simmons sat on the bench at the public library Grif always ended up on either to smoke or because Simmons said he was being too distracting. Grif got out and ran over to Simmons who was slumped in his seat, shoulders hunched over, hair a mess and glasses askew. His face brightened when he saw Grif though, “Grif!”

Simmons tried to get up but fell back on the seat. Grif put an arm around Simmons and helped him up,

“I knew you’d come. I told you it was the place we always go. And I always shut up because I wanna hold your hand but I can’t ‘cuz friends can’t do that. So I make you go away. But this time I took turns on the bench because friends can take turns!”

Grif bit back any remarks about hand holding (because seriously? not the time for confessions Simmons) and stayed quiet as Simmons continued his disconcerting rambling. “They said they would be my friends too but they’re mean and I like you better. We don’t hold hands, but we’re buddies right?”

“Yeah, we’re buddies. And I’m gonna kick their asses. And when you’re sober, I’m gonna kick your ass too. Fuck my reputation as a do nothing slacker.

“Oh.”

Simmons looked disappointed at the mention of his ass getting kicked as Grif helped him into the car. Grif was about to close the door but Simmons half yelled, “Wait!”

He grabbed one of Grif’s hands and his shirt, “We can still get ice cream, right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Simmons looked happy at that and Grif got back into the drivers seat and started taking them home.

“Drink your water, Simmons.”

“Ok.”

Grif had plenty of experience with this sort of thing from taking care of his sister, so he opened the water bottle and handed it and the vomit bag to Simmons. “If you need to throw up, do it in there.”

Simmons got halfway through the water bottle and paused, vomiting in the bag. “Uh oh. Am I sick?”

“Yeah.”

“That wasn’t good medicine huh?”

“No Simmons, it wasn’t.”

“Oh.” Simmons stayed quiet for a bit, placing the brown paper bag sitting upright on the floor and drinking more water. As he finished the bottle, they pulled into Grif’s parking spot. Grif helped Simmons out and rubbed his back and took his glasses when he hurled into some nearby grass a couple times. By this point Simmons was shaking and had told Grif he felt bad five times by the time Grif had unlocked their door.

He put Simmons down gently on their bathroom floor and said, “Throw up goes in the toilet. I’m going to get you more water, okay?” Simmons nodded and when Grif got back, he was throwing up again into the toilet. He thankfully drank some water that Grif offered him, and Grif stayed there on the floor, reading information on his phone about the new drug he had seen on the news. It looked like the symptoms Simmons had, and from what Grif could tell, Simmons could do nothing but drink plenty of water and wait it out. When the vomiting stopped he could rest.

“Grif?” That startled Grif out of his thoughts.

Simmons looked up at him, “At the bar… they laughed at me. Then they told me I was doing drugs? And… I don’t wanna be on drugs. I’m scared, Dex. I don’t like this, make it go away now please.”

Grif sat shocked for a moment by Simmons’ use of his first name, wishing he could comfort his best friend. He thought back to Simmons’ rant about being friends… worth a shot.

He reached out and held Simmons’ hand, “It’s okay Simmons, I’m here now. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Those guys were assholes. But they sure as hell aren’t gonna lay a single finger on you anymore.”

Simmons held up their joined hands, “Only your fingers can touch me, right?”

“Yeah.”

Simmons peered at their hands closely and nodded, “Good. I like your fingers.”

They had sat mostly silent then, Simmons vomiting and drinking water but still clutching onto Grif’s hand. Eventually Simmons’ vomiting had subsided. Grif helped him clean up, washing his face, letting him change clothes and brush his teeth. Grif got ready for bed at the same time, since Simmons wouldn’t let Grif leave his side.

When he put Simmons to bed, Simmons just looked back and forth from the bed to Grif, “Can you stay?”

So Grif climbed in with him after shutting off the light, saying, “We’ll get you ice cream tomorrow. You can have as much as you want, after I kick your butt for being reckless, you dumb nerd.”

But Simmons was already falling asleep. Adrenaline finally subsiding, Grif let exhaustion take over his body.

When they woke up the next day, neither said anything about waking up in the same bed holding hands.

Simmons just said, “Man, my head hurts, I feel like I got run over by a fucking truck. What the fuck was that they put in my drink? Those backstabbing cockbites.”

They had breakfast together and both got showered.

“C’mon Simmons, let’s go.” Grif said when they were both dressed for the day.

“Where are we going?” but Simmons didn’t press it. He still felt awful, and didn’t feel like talking much.

They arrived at a small ice cream shop and Grif pretended he didn’t see Simmons’ face light up. They took it home and Grif started up Mario Kart.

“Wanna play that tournament?”

Simmons just nodded.

By the time Simmons could bring himself to say something, they sat on the sofa finishing their ice cream, controllers in their laps. Simmons was leaned back with his feet on the coffee table and Grif was laying on his back with his head by Simmons’ legs, feet dangling over the edge of the sofa, trying to decide which racing cup to play first.

“Uh… Dex?”

Grif sat up and turned to Simmons at the use of his first name again,

“Yeah, Dick?”

Simmons got a little redder,

“Thanks. For coming to pick me up, and… everything else.”

Grif gave a genuine smile rather than his usual smirk (even if it was a little lopsided) so Simmons could tell Grif meant it when he said, “That’s what friends are for, dude. But they can be for hand holding too. If you want.” and he took Simmons’ hand in his.


End file.
